


Battening Down the Hatches

by CrystalExhibition



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-29 00:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19819195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalExhibition/pseuds/CrystalExhibition
Summary: A raging storm outside, a dripping noise inside, and two celestial beings trying to sleep (only one having any luck).  Aziraphale takes stock of the flat and of Crowley.





	Battening Down the Hatches

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, fluffy fic (if you're into that kind of thing, which I certainly am).

For a split second Aziraphale had no idea why he was suddenly awake, let alone why he was now sitting upright in bed.

Another crack of thunder answered both questions. From the looks of things a storm had moved in during the night, and it’s enthusiastic displays had startled him awake. Flashes of lightning bounced off the white walls of Crowley’s flat as more thunder rolled overhead.

No wonder he had woken up. He was still getting used to sleeping regularly, having only done it sporadically in six millennia. Something as loud and bright as this would wake the most seasoned of sleepers.

Except, apparently, the being beside him.

Aziraphale glanced to his side, positive he’d find Crowley awake in all of this. But no. The demon looked like he hadn’t even stirred. He remained curled in a ball under the covers, sound asleep despite the commotion.

The angel breathed a quiet laugh. Even after all the time they’d known each other, even after they’d started this new phase of their relationship, Crowley still continued to surprise him. Aziraphale gently brushed the top of Crowley’s hair, which was one of the only things still visible outside of the blankets. Crowley was susceptible to cold (the snake part of him, Aziraphale believed), and he often burrowed down into the warmth.

As the angel was wondering whether to try to fall back asleep or grab a book, a sound caught his attention, something over the rolling thunder. A distinctive drip, drip, drip that very likely shouldn’t be there. Being careful not to jostle the bed too much, Aziraphale crawled out from under the sheets and stood on the cold floor. He quickly dressed in beige button down pajamas, and after a quick search for the slippers he kept by the bed, put those on as well.

Properly dressed he started walking the flat in search of the noise. In his searching he passed the spot where he could still sense the faintest traces of divinity. He knew now that was where the holy water he’d given Crowley decades ago had been used against a demon. Though there was no danger left to any demon on that spot on the floor now, the remnants were still detectable. Aziraphale frowned, as he did every time he passed it. It worried him that something that could have easily destroyed Crowley, completely obliterated him from existence, had been used and could still be sensed in the demon’s own home; in what had essentially become Aziraphale’s home as well.

There was nothing to be done now. Crowley loved the flat still, though he still gave that spot on the floor a wide berth. Nothing Aziraphale said would change that, so they stayed. And, for now, the angel continued his search for the noise.

He eventually found it in the room with the plants. There had been enough rain that some water had trickled in through an area of the ceiling near the windows. Aziraphale turned on a light to see better, and watched a few drops land in an empty flower pot on the floor below. That was what caused the noise; water dripping into water.

Thinking the situation over, Aziraphale moved a few pots around so that the water would drip into the soil of a particularly large plant. Though Crowley took great care to water them, a little more dripped in over just a few hours wouldn’t hurt. That took care of the noise, and Aziraphale nodded, satisfied with his handy work. He supposed he could’ve easily miracled a patch on the ceiling, but this way the plants got a little more water. The angel often gave them a little more love when Crowley wasn’t looking.

That still left the question of what to do now. It would still be several hours before anyone would be awake, including Crowley. Before he’d been making an effort to sleep with his demon, the angel would’ve been reading through the night. He had a few books at Crowley’s flat, and he decided to choose one and take it back to bed. He would attempt to go back to sleep, but if it couldn’t be done he had the option of the book.

Again being careful not to jostle anything too much, Aziraphale crawled back under the covers, leaving the pajamas on and the book on the side table. He noticed Crowley had shifted a little while he’d been gone, and was now asleep on his stomach, his arms around the pillow he had most of his face pressed into. The lightning still flashed, and the thunder still rolled, but Crowley slept on.

Feeling a surge of fondness, Aziraphale laid down on his side so he was directly facing Crowley. He watched his demon sleep, watched the steady breathing, noted his mouth was slightly parted, his reptilian eyes closed and relaxed, his whole face slack and peaceful. It was a version of Crowley few beings ever got to see. It was one of the many things he shared only with Aziraphale.

Crowley was utterly captivating, even asleep. Because sleep was distinctly Crowley. It was something no other angel or demon did, as far as Aziraphale knew. It was something Crowley made a part of himself, something he used to redefine himself on his own terms, as he had with so many other things.

Still watching him, Aziraphale reached over and began to very gently stroke along Crowley’s face and hair. The angel marveled at the smooth skin, the soft red hair (Aziraphale preferred it long and wavy, but Crowley could not look bad any way he wore it). He was amazed, as usual, how truly beautiful a demon could be.

Aziraphale paused his ministrations when Crowley stirred a little. The angel wasn’t trying to wake him, and he was prepared to stop if he was. But without fully waking Crowley reached under the blankets and put an arm around the angel’s waist, pulling a little. Aziraphale obliged, closing the distance. The demon pressed his face into Aziraphale’s neck, and the angel pulled Crowley close, wrapping him in the sheets and in his arms.

Laying prone in the darkness, the occasional flash of light and rumble of thunder from the storm, his gentle fingers still caressing red hair before trailing along the back of the head and over the neck and shoulders, Aziraphale basked in the moment. Basked in the peace and contentment of laying in the dark with his counterpart, his oldest and dearest friend, someone he loved so dearly, and who loved him in return, of feeling the weight and warmth of having him at his side.

The angel couldn’t keep it to himself. Turning slightly so his lips lay close to Crowley’s ear, Aziraphale whispered in the dark. “My dearest. You’re so beautiful. I love you, with all my heart. With everything I am.”

Aziraphale didn’t expect a reply, but was surprised when Crowley breathed deep and mumbled “luvutoo”. The angel chuckled, and pressed a kiss to the demon’s temple.

With the storm starting to die down somewhat, the leak having been dealt with and Crowley safe and sleeping in his arms, both of them away from end times and holy water, hellfire and trials (at least for now) Aziraphale felt content and relaxed enough to drift back off to sleep.


End file.
